


heart goes boom

by hereforme



Category: Pentagon (Korea Band)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Fluff, M/M, Small Towns, Trot Hui, a bit of crack, a very clunky progression of their relationship, some unscary scary scenes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:07:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27227815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hereforme/pseuds/hereforme
Summary: "You two would make suchgood friendsyou know?"(Home is where the heart is. Jinho and Hwitaek's neighbors take care of the rest.)
Relationships: Jo Jinho | Jino/Lee Hwitaek | Hui
Comments: 7
Kudos: 21





	heart goes boom

**Author's Note:**

> yea brb just going to fill up the Jinho/Hui tag one fluffy meet-cute at a time until we get actual jinhui interactions again
> 
> this has been sitting in my drafts for months, but post first win sadness(?) finally got me to finish
> 
> (whatever your expectations, pls lower them)
> 
>  **Actual Note** : the other Super Five members are aged up — sorry, boys — at least Hui's finally the maknae. (It doesn’t really affect the story.)

Remembering Hyunggu's advice for him to _be more sentimental, hyung_ , Jinho takes a moment to take in and admire the day as he steps out from his house. The air smells of coming rain, but for now, everything's picture perfect — houses lined up neatly and branches swaying to the breeze. That is, until the sun reflecting off the trunk of his car makes him squint and trip over a stone in the process—almost sending the box in his hands flying.

Thanks to a great sense of balance (and low center of gravity), Jinho only flaps around the air for a couple of seconds before he plants his feet firmly on the ground. Once he recovers and has kicked the offending stone out of the way, there’s an easy smile on his face which can only mean that slept well for once. It’s the perfect disposition for a long road trip—” Hurry, we’re going to be late!”—even if it’s with his mother.

Jinho squeezes the box in among the other things in the trunk and (gently) slams it shut. “Late for what?” It's barely 7am and the rest of the street still seems to be sleeping in. Even _brown gate_ 's dog, who would bark the minute anyone so much as breathed in their relative direction, is quiet.

His mother’s head pops up from the passenger window, “Go-Stop!” She's dressed in a puffy padding jacket that makes her look like a giant marshmallow stuck to the car. "It’s time to take back my throne from Mr. Chae."

Jinho pulls at the sleeves of his matching jacket and makes his way to the driver’s side, rolling his eyes (fondly) when he’s out of sight, “Don’t worry, mom. There won’t be any traffic anyway.” He pats the roof once for good luck, and gets in, "You'll have all the time in the world."

All reservations against driving all the way to Hwacheon instead of taking the KTX aside, Jinho has been anticipating this trip to their hometown for a while, seeing it as a bit of a writer’s retreat. His mother is retiring and moving back there for good, which would make holidays a _bit_ difficult, but considering his job ran away when he wasn’t looking, this would be the first time in a _long_ long while that he’d be having an actual stress-free holiday without KakaoTalk messages from his boss driving him up the wall. Jinho’s never been more enthusiastic for two weeks of nothing.

He thinks of the journal a colleague gifted him for Christmas— _fill it up with some lyrics, hyung!_ —which has remained empty save for that time he had to jot down an emergency grocery list, and figures it’s about time to catch up. When he gets back to Seoul, he’ll have all the time in the world to worry about his future as a cog in the machine. But for now, he’ll make the most out of his two weeks in his own way. He turns up the heat—now if only the weather would cooperate.

Thankfully, Jinho doesn't have to eat his words and the first half of their trip is smooth going, the looming rain probably keeping others inside. They even have time for a little pit stop at Mom’s Touch. Jinho would honestly prefer Lotteria instead, but considering the former is Super Five's—Korea's first ever trot boy group and no doubt his mother's favorite men (him excluded)—first endorsement, there is no way they were skipping this drive-thru.

“Oh, look, Jinho!” His mother taps his shoulder excitedly as they ride up to the menu. She hurries to open her phone, wanting to snap a proof shot.

He glances at the sign and is met with the smiling faces of five men in glittering suits. _Cute._ "I can take the picture for you, mom." The screen is filled with all sorts of applications— _Starplay, Mwave, Idol Champ, Whosfan,_ and a lot more that Jinho could only guess the purpose of—turns out being a fan is a lot of work these days.

"Make sure to get all their faces, okay?" She sinks back to her seat. "And I want that one," she points to their most expensive meal, "with Coke."

"Mmmmmm..." Jinho finally finds the camera, “Aha.” He hurries to take pictures in as many angles as possible, taking note of his own order. "You shouldn't be drinking soda this early," he says as he turns to give the phone back.

His mother starts tapping away on her phone, zooming in and out of the pictures, "I'm a senior citizen, Jinho. There's no early for me anymore."

Well, he definitely got his bluntness from his mother.

* * *

“Thank you again for the ticket, son," Jinho's mother says in between bites of her burger, "I’ll pay you back.” _Right,_ the town concert is the real reason why they’re on this road trip in the first place. Couldn’t miss the chance to see Super Five in a “natural and healing” concert as they called it, i.e. in the middle of a grass field.

Jinho's flattening an empty carton of nuggets in his hands, “It’s been months, mom. You can stop saying that." His car now distinctly smells of chicken and pickles. He looks at the fluorescent giant apron of Mom’s Touch peering over at the other end of the parking lot. _We should've just gone inside_. "Besides, it’s called a gift for a reason.”

“Yes, I know, it just makes me feel better when I say it." She claps her hands, "I’m going to see Myungjae's dimples in person!”

“He’s the one with _sil_ –blonde hair, right?” _Oops._

His mother turns to him slowly with a serious expression, “The one with blonde hair is _Myungjae_.” She holds up her phone with him on the lock screen. When she brings it down, there's a grin on her face, " _Silver_ hair is Hwitaekkie—your favorite _._ ”

"I don’t _have_ a favorite, mom.” Jinho balks, "I don't really care for them." Which okay, might be a bit of a lie because with his mother sharing clips of their performances and shows every day, it was hard not to notice them. He swears it's just because silver hair guy— _Hwitaekkie_ —is the only member remotely near his age but yes, _maybe_ , when his mother makes him stream their videos, he's the one Jinho focuses on. And yes, Hwitaek does have an amazing voice and is cute to boot—those are just facts that Jinho can admit as someone with working eyes and ears—not that his mother needs to know.

She only hums, crumpling the wrapper in her hands. "Whatever you say, son." Jinho deigns against digging his hole any further and stays silent, busying himself with cleaning up the car and spraying the air with alcohol instead. (Defensive? Who?)

When Jinho comes back from taking out their trash, his mother is squinting back and forth between the dashboard screen and her phone, “How do you make this work again? I want to practice the fan chants.”

* * *

It starts raining in full right as they leave the skyway and enter Gangwon-do. Their car cuts through the veil of rain and fog—it feels like they’re the only ones on the road. Even with the windows shut, the smell of petrichor seeps in and Jinho’s mind can’t help but wander to a nice refreshing cup of hot chocolate. Ideally, he would be fast asleep under his weighted blanket right now. Instead, he has his jaw clenched with the steering wheel in a death grip. He had hopes that the 50% chance of rain forecast this morning would lean the other way. Driving in the rain always made him a bit nervous.

The next time he blinks, they’re right outside their family home (surprisingly in one piece) with the rain slowing to a soft patter. Jinho hauls their things in as much of a rush he can afford with the ground still slick, wanting to settle in as soon as possible while his mother makes tea. As he brings in the last of his mother’s things, Mrs. Chae, who he refers to as the anti-Umbridge in his head, and Mr. Chae, who Jinho can only describe as a gentle giant, come walking up the street. He can see some tupperware in their hands and his mouth waters, the Chae family had a killer _yukjeon_ that was to die for.

He waves at them from afar and bows. "Thank you for coming over even with the rain, Mr. and Mrs. Chae. My mother's making tea inside."

"Oh, that'll be perfect with this _yukjeon_!" Mr. Chae thumps the container in his hands. "And it's no problem, Jinho. Your mother's been bugging me about Go-Stop for weeks," he winks, "The others will be coming soon." He steadies himself on Jinho's shoulder as he goes in, having to stoop under the gate.

Mrs. Chae tuts, following after him, "I told them we should visit tomorrow, you know, give you some time to rest, but these _children_ just want to play..." she shakes her head. "Did you have a tough time with the rain?" The bracelets rounding her arms dangle at every move.

Jinho closes the gate after them. "It was pretty bad but–" he checks his watch, "We got here earlier than expected."

His mother pops in from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. "We got here in a blink of an eye, I tell you. I’m thinking Dayoung plucked us out of the road herself." She rushes in to hug the Chae’s, smiling. "It's good to see you both, and you've even brought some food!" She takes the containers and hands them to Jinho, "Be a good boy and serve these."

"Hmmm," Mr. and Mrs. Chae say in chorus as they’re led to the sofa, exchanging glances.

"Well, Dayoung has always had a soft-spot for little Joji. Like that time he wandered in the forest.” Mr. Chae says, in the tone of _I told you so_ , looking at Mrs. Chae instead of Jinho’s mother.

"Oh, let’s not talk about it too much. You’ll scare him," his mother fake whispers.

"I'm almost thirty, mom," Jinho says from the kitchen, “And I didn’t know Dayoung’s powers extended to teleportation.” _Dayoung_ is there local ghost, whose legend has grown from creepy girl in the woods who everyone has seen at least once to omnipresent and sometimes, benevolent spirit. Every kid in their neighborhood grew up afraid of her, but really, _he’s twenty-eight_.

"Yes, and you are still my baby,” she shouts back, always talking a bit too loud. " _More like,_ she knew how much I wanted to see Super Five,” she gigles.

“I can only wish she does the same for all the tourists,” Mrs. Chae sighs, putting her head in her hands.

Mr. Chae shakes his head, patting her back, "There's just nothing we can do about it." He shares a look with Jinho’s mother, all too familiar with Mrs. Chae’s dramatics.

Jinho comes back in carrying a tray of food and drinks, "Is that about the stargazing night?"

Mrs. Chae looks up, "Yes, the hotels are getting cancellations left and right. No one wants to come all the way here to see some stars anymore, especially with the news of bad weather. We even had to cancel the bonfire night."

Jinho's mother leans in, "But the concert?"

" _Mom."_

She clears her throat, "What? I'm sure the weather will clear up and those people will just regret not going. It’d be shame if you had to cancel the concert too.”

Mrs. Chae puts her hand to her heart, “ _Oh,_ if we had to cancel the concert, I would not know how to take it.” She shakes her head, “The boys are so so sweet, rain or shine they’ll perform, they said. It’s lucky that Hwitaek is from our town,” she says, perking up again.

“He is?” Jinho wonders if they were somehow classmates in school but forgot. The Chae’s turn to him like wolves. He can't help but feel like he's fallen into a trap.

"Yes, he is," Jinho's mother looks appalled, "I told you that so many times. He's Hwacheon’s Pride." she tuts, "It's a pity he was so sickly as a kid, you would have remembered him more."

“Yes, yes." Mrs. Chae suddenly takes his hand, looking at him in the eyes, which is exactly what she does whenever trying to convince him to go on a blind date. "You two would make such _good friends_ you know?" Mr. Chae grunts in agreement. Ah yes, _good friend_ —her favorite euphemism for boyfriend.

Jinho presses his lips together, "Not sure if I'm at the level of making friends with celebrities." _Would tick an item off my bucket list though_.

Mrs. Chae waves her hand down, her bracelets going _clangclangclang._ "Hwitaek is no celebrity, just a local that happens to be in a trot group, you know?” Both Jinho and his mother nod in vague understanding. “Besides, he's such a clumsy boy," she crinkles her nose, probably reminiscing on some incident. "He's going to be staying here for a while. Plenty of time to bump into him on the streets," she winks.

His mother _ooohs_ at that. 

"Oh, forget _friends_.” Mr. Chae sits up, “Your mother isn't young anymore,” he wags his finger. “You really must be bringing someone home. Even Jongmin’s getting married."

Jinho would balk at the sudden sermon, but it’s not like it’s something he hasn’t heard before, especially with his sister getting married last year. “Jongmin hyung is a lot older than me though.”

"Well still, it wouldn’t be so bad to make a new friend, now would it?” Mrs. Chae counters.

“That’s right,” His mother cuts in, happy to have someone else pressure her son for a change, “That’s what I keep telling him.”

“This is why having a pet like Tofu is better.” Mr. Chae declares like Jinho isn’t in the room, “You don’t have to worry about them not listening to you.”

He settles with a polite nod, knowing there’s no escape. Jinho tries not to be swayed. When he was in high school, his parents had made an off-hand comment about he and their neighbor being _a good match_ after wearing the same pair of shoes and that sprouted a 3 year long unrequited crush on the guy. Jinho, is, for lack of a better term, _susceptible_ when it comes to matters of the heart.

The doorbell rings and Jinho, taking that as his saving grace, rushes to welcome their other guests.

* * *

Thanks to the threat of rain affecting attendance (and nepotism), they end up getting their tickets switched for front row seats—his mother shed some happy tears at that, already dressed up in a bunch of merch. To blend in, Jinho has heart stickers with the words _Super_ and _Five_ on his left and right cheek.

The stage is set up in the middle of the field, right next to their century-old juniper tree. Jinho hasn’t breathed in air as clean as this in years, though there’s a tinge of _cow_ when he focuses on the smell. The sky’s already brimming with clouds and there’s a steady breeze blowing at everyone’s raincoats, but it’s not raining _yet_ and it doesn’t exactly feel like it will—“My fake knee always knows when it’s going to rain,” an elder he can’t quite name reassures him—so the atmosphere is nice and relaxed. It seems as if the entire 50 and up population of Hwacheon is here, filling up the seats.

He realizes just how close they are to the stage when their homegrown hip hop duo gets overexcited and douses the crowd with water. It might’ve worked if it was more of a refreshing mist than a massive waterfall aimed at those in the front row. The looks on the two kids’ faces upon receiving a bunch of annoyed stares makes it worth it though. It has them awkwardly bowing off the stage while the hosts make jokes to salvage the situation.

Jinho shakes the water off. _Why are we so near the stage anyway? What if someone climbs up?_ He takes a look around; he’s one of the youngest in the crowd. O _kay, maybe_ _not_. Jinho's last concert was for his friend’s super serious piano recital and that was years ago, so he's not quite sure how to act, especially with the Super Five performance coming up next. _This must have been how my dad felt when I asked him to go to that G.O.D concert with me_.

"Aren't they a little old to be called a boy group?" Jinho whispers to his mother after the host spiel.

His mother shushes him, eyes glued to the screen playing clips as they wait. Myungjae is on, singing _Shabang Shabang_. Someone from behind thumps his head with a balloon instead.

Everyone stands when Super Five finally appear on stage. The energy rivalling that of the time someone from their town won the lotto. Jinho lets himself get into the music, bopping his head and tapping his feet, but his face is stuck in an awkward smile. As probably the only young audience member Super Five can see from the stage, they seem to have taken notice of Jinho and his heart stickers, looking at his direction every now and then. That and, during their opening ment, his mother screams so loud that Myungjae gets shocked out of his sentence. Jinho wishes that he didn’t resemble her so much.

As they move on to their faster songs, Jinho realizes that they are, in fact, a trot boy group. Their vocals are incredibly stable, even to his experienced ears, and their choreography puts his cardio routine to shame (though there is a strange amount of hip thrusting in it). He can only hope he can be as energetic as Hyukjin when he passes forty—there’s already a slight twinge in his back from having to stand up for so long.

Hwitaek, especially, strings in the audience with such ease that it makes Jinho feel all sorts of things, both as a fellow musician and as a spectator. Jinho always hated hearing “H _ow can so much talent fit in such a small body?”_ as a compliment, but he couldn’t help but think the same now.

That’s about as much rational thought Jinho can manage though, because for the rest of their performance, Hwitaek seems to have taken Jinho’s relative indifference as a challenge, making so much eye contact with him that Jinho begins heating up like a pressure cooker. The man next to Jinho, Mr. Go from the neighborhood pharmacy, elbows him at one point, “He seems to like you.”

Jinho turns with a smile/grimace. “Ha,” is all he can say. He’s sure he's as red as the hearts on his cheeks. In the back of his head, he knows he should probably be more chill about this, _Hwitaek just knows how to work a crowd_ , but, well, it didn't help that his type had always been fellow singers. (And why, why did the Chae’s have to plant the idea of them together in his head?) That was 50-ish% the reason why he took up Music in college anyway. (The other 50% being his genuine passion for the craft, _obviously_. He was no groupie.) Making hearts beat was a lot easier when there was music to follow.

Whatever the guys up in MBC thought when they were making this trot-idol group hybrid, it was definitely working. Maybe running into Hwitaek one day wouldn’t be so bad, but for now, Jinho has to hold his breath until Super Five say their goodbyes.

“They're going to be big, I tell you,” his mother whispers, proud and oblivious of whatever crisis her son just went through.

* * *

Hwitaek takes pride in being _the_ fan service king. It's his role as the youngest (and the most handsome—don’t tell Jinwook that) member. And usually, he had specific targets in the audience—his anchors, he likes to call them. At first, it was just a beginner technique he used to seem focused while his stomach did backflips out of stage fright, now it’s his superpower. But _now_ that he's looking at his forty-something _hyung_ s grinning maniacally with heart stickers on their cheeks (even _Hyeongseok_ has them), Hwitaek realizes he probably should have toned it down earlier. They're waving at him and the few fans who've come to see them off on the last train back to Seoul. The _ahjummas_ are eating up the rare show of cuteness, _but_ _Hwitaek_ _knows._

Myungjae motions for Hwitaek to come closer to the window, and he does, reluctantly. Knowing him, he'd probably shout out whatever he had to say if Hwitaek didn't follow.

The window cracks open an inch and Hwitaek goes up his tiptoes, "What is it, _hyung_?"

There's a chorus of _how cute_ and _what a good dongsaeng_ behind them. Potentially embarrass Hwitaek and give good fan service? Couldn’t expect less from him.

"I just asked Chief Chae. Sticker boy's name is Jo Jinho," Myungjae whispers, "He's a local," he winks. _Oh, god._

"Should've asked for his number while you were at it," Hwitaek rolls his eyes, "I’m not staying here to hit on a fan." 

Myungjae laughs, "Don't be so egotistical. Don't think he's a fan as much as a chaperone, Hwi." Which, remembering the awkward smile on the guy's face, is probably true. _Well, still._

Hwitaek opens his mouth to retort, but the whistle blows for the last call and Myungjae has to close the window. "Don't forget to bring back some _hanwoo_!" Hyukjin shouts from somewhere inside. 

Forgetting what he was going to say, Hwitaek shouts back "I will, be safe!" instead, stepping back with a big smile for show. He waves with the fans, and the train is off.

_Jo Jinho, huh?_ The name is familiar enough, he knew _of_ the Jo family—his brother might have “dated” a Jo girl back in middle school—but he can't remember anything beyond that. He considers the merits of asking someone from his hometown out (small time celebrity or not, he didn’t quite like how people were so involved in each other’s business here) while he takes pictures with everyone at the station. He half-jokingly makes everyone swear to treat him as regular old Hwitaek starting tomorrow, making pinky-promises.

An umbrella makes its way into his hands in the middle of it all, which Hwitaek doesn’t question. It's about time for rain, with the sky starting to rumble and the wind making him shiver even under all his layers. Still, he forgoes the multiple offers of a warm homecooked dinner and heads to the only convenience store in the neighborhood for some good old instant food instead. It’s one of his post-concert traditions. And because Hwitaek's just plain old lucky, Jo Jinho happens to be there too, looking at a wall of instant ramen. Even on even flooring, he seems small, enveloped in a similar hoodie that makes him look downright adorab–Hwitaek almost pulls a muscle at how fast he turns to look away when Jinho turns his head.

Too late though. "Oh– hello," Jinho bows, looking a bit startled but a lot calmer than Hwitaek feels.

Hwitaek considers just turning heel and walking out but bows back instead. _Curse small town etiquette_. "Hello, I– uh– " he scratches his nape.

"My mother's a fan of your group." Jinho fills the silence for him. His hands are clasped together politely. _Cute._ “She enjoyed your performance a lot.”

“Oh,” Hwitaek short circuits, "Thank you. Me too." _Why am I like this?_

Jinho turns his head to the side, "You're... a fan of your group too?"

"I– yeah. We're pretty great." Hwitaek laughs at his blunder and somewhere miles way, Myungjae is too, probably.

Jinho laughs with him, "That's true.”

There’s silence. Hwitaek’s still thinking of what to say.

“I, well,” Jinho steps back, “You must get people approaching you all the time, don’t want to bother you.”

Hwitaek shakes his head, “No, not at all.” He cringes inwardly, thinking he’s probably come off as cold again. His awkwardness with strangers never did him any favors.

Jinho smiles anyway, and wow, if Hwitaek could just put him in his pocket right now. “Well, it was nice to meet you, Hwitaek- _ssi_." Jinho bows again. While Hwitaek wracks his head for _anything_ , Jinho celebrates how calm he’s appearing.

Hwitaek decides it’s too late to say anything else anyway and just bows back. "You too, Jinho- _ssi_." _Wait, fuck_.

Jinho looks like he wants to ask something to the tune of “ _How the hell do you know my name?_ ” but only says goodbye, walking off to the counter with a cup of ramen.

When he’s out of sight, Hwitaek crumbles at how awkward the entire interaction was, wishing he was half as confident as he was on stage. He spends an extra couple minutes stewing in the sudden meeting and picking out the food he wants, walking up and down the aisles for some extra cardio, before going to pay. In that short while, the rain’s already begun pattering down. Hwitaek doesn’t notice until he spots Jinho still there, standing by the door and staring outside. _Oh, he doesn’t have an umbrella._

Hwitaek stands next to him and clears his throat. _Take two. “_ Do you want to share my umbrella?”

“Oh,” Jinho jumps, “Um,” Hwitaek smiles in an effort to appear more friendly, “No, thank you.”

_He'd rather get drenched in the rain than share an umbrella with me? Fuck._ Hwitaek’s not quite sure what to say to that, but then Jinho points to a steaming cup of ramen at the side, “I’m just waiting for it to cook.” _Oh._ “You probably should just wait the rain out too,” Jinho says, “Don't think that umbrella's gonna protect you from anything with the wind blowing like that.”

Hwitaek nods, “Yeah, that’s… a lot smarter. I’m just,” he holds up the _tteokbokki_ in his hand, “going to pay.”

“Sure, uh,” Jinho clenches his fists, “Feel free to sit with me?”

Hwitaek beams, “Yeah, would love to.”

* * *

Jinho starts sneaking out in the middle of the night to pass time and drink beer in the convenience store like he’s in high school again. Hwitaek goes on a mission to try out all their ramen brands in stock and promises himself that that he’ll go back to eating only chicken breasts and protein shakes once he gets back to Seoul. They don’t talk a whole lot, usually just sitting a seat apart in (now comfortable) silence, acting as if both of them being there again is just nothing. There isn’t much to do once the clock hits 7 anyway and the novelty of their homecoming has long faded, with only the stargazing night left to look forward to at the end of the week. Shinyoung, the night shifter, never comments on their recurring appearances, happy enough to have some spice in between all the other customers.

_Kim’s Convenience_ is in the same street as so-called Dayoung’s House, an abandoned property that doesn’t look any different from the others, save for its utter stillness and just general melancholia. No lights and no movement, just emptiness at the end of the street. It might actually belong to some totally unrelated and completely human family, but thanks to the fig tree towering its garden and not so much giving shade as absorbing all light and happiness, a gloomy aura blankets the place. It’s a house that’s been used by every parent in Hwacheon to scare their kids. It’s the setting of Hwitaek’s every single childhood nightmare—at one point, his mother had to cover his eyes whenever they passed by—but looking at it again for the past couple days, it’s nothing but an ugly house. _Guess I just had good tastes since the womb._ In fact, Hwitaek, the sentimental adult he is, has grown to enjoy staring at it and its chipping walls. So, when he spots a figure moving in the house’s attic window and quite literally jumps in his seat, spilling his food in shock, you have to understand that, well, he had it coming.

“Are you okay?” Jinho asks, sounding surprised himself, then while Hwitaek is still looking at the mess he’s made, he bends down to pick up Hwitaek’s fallen chopsticks.

Hwitaek scrambles down to pick them up himself. They bump their heads in the process, “Ow, sorry. You didn’t have to—thank you.”

Jinho sits back up, rubbing his head. “It’s no problem.” He reaches for some tissue. “What was that about?”

“Uh,” Hwitaek laments at having to reveal his scaredy-cat tendencies so soon, picking up his ramen cup as Jinho begins wiping the table, “I saw something in the window?”

“What window?” Jinho looks outside, turning his head left and right until, “ _Oh_.” _Of course._

“Yeah,” he shrugs, already questioning if he even saw anything and feeling quite silly, “Just got a little spooked.”

“The story’s true, you know.”

This time they both jump up, Jinho squeaking like a wheel at the sudden voice. It’s Shinyoung, holding a mop and looking about as frightening as a quarter-life crisis.

Hwitaek clutches his heart, “Did you have to sneak up on us like that, _noona_?”

She snorts, “It’s what you deserve for staring at that house so much, you’ll make Dayoung uncomfortable.”

He frowns, feeling goosebumps on his skin, “Was that supposed to be a joke?”

Shinyoung shrugs, “I don’t know about you, but my parents told me to never joke about the dead.” Her voice is serious, but the corners of her lips are twitching up. “Seeing ghosts is supposed to be a sign of a hit, right? You should be glad,” she pats his shoulder.

“I don’t even know what I saw.” Hwitaek groans, “Please forget it happened, this is embarrassing.” _Why did I have to make such a fuss over it?_

Jinho picks up his drink, “We should just move places.”

Hwitaek happily gets up, throwing a pout at Shinyoung.

She cracks up, turning away. “You two are too easy.”

Jinho takes their things, perched precariously on top of each other in his small hands, to somewhere deeper inside the store. Hwitaek goes to throw away their spent-up tissues and ask for another pair of chopsticks. At Shinyoung’s amused smirk, he realizes, _Jinho doesn’t have to move tables with me._

Their new spot is a round table with a nice non-haunted view of the ice cream freezers. Hwitaek blushes as he sits opposite Jinho, their knees almost knocking together under the small space. When Jinho looks up, he suddenly laughs and Hwitaek looks back at him with wide eyes, chopsticks sticking out of his mouth like a lollipop. “Sorry, it’s–it’s nothing." Jinho waves at the air, going back to his drink.

"Oh, come on,” Hwitaek argues, putting the chopsticks down, “I’m sure you also think it’s annoying when people do that.”

“I know.” Jinho smiles from behind his drink, “You’re just, very different from what I expected. That’s all, Hwitaek- _ssi._ ”

“I am?” Hwitaek blinks. _I hope that’s a compliment._

"You’re different on and off stage,” Jinho explains, train of thought flickering, “I mean– well, of course you are, but, you were just really…” he purses his lips, searching for an appropriate word, “….cool back then is what I'm trying to say." Of course what Jinho really meant to say was, “ _You seemed weirdly intense at first, but you really just are a guy who happens to be in a trot group.”_

"And... I'm not cool now?" Hwitaek follows Jinho’s gaze down to his sweatshirt. There's a stain on it from his little fright earlier; Jinho’s been fighting the urge to reach over and rub it off.

The silence stretches on as long as the cheese on his ramen. And then—“No, you’re not.”

(Well, Jinho definitely got his bluntness from his mother.)

_(You’re warm, I think.)_

* * *

Just to clarify, no, Jinho is not spending his vacation only bumming off at the convenience store. He goes on a jog every morning, out of spite for Hongseok, a Seoul friend who manipulated him into joining a fun run ( _Since when did running 15k become fun?_ ) then subsequently called him out on having “commitment issues” for wanting to drop out ahead of the race. He spends the rest of his day doing a bunch of chores for the town elders and helping out his mother with their slowly flourishing garden. (She’s decided to be a gardener for retirement.)

It’s mundane, but Jinho appreciates being able to stop and smell the flowers, figuratively and literally, resolutely ignoring the voice in his head telling him to _be productive_ and _stop wasting time_ with his main agenda of songwriting having gone to the dumps. It’s not his fault his head goes blank the moment he sits in front of the keyboard—he grumbles at having brought it all the way from Seoul, only for it to become a clothes rack.

When he was teaching, he’d be so busy juggling papers and tasks from his supervisor that he started making music in his dreams instead. He’d always been a vivid dreamer so inspired by _Doctor Strange_ no less _,_ had tried his best to incite lucid dreaming. A couple meetups with his sleep paralysis demon later, it was a moderate success. _If only I could actually remember the music_. The notes always faded away with the fog of sleep, leaving only the smell of figs and glimpses of the sky from the first time his family went stargazing—which is why his writing block hasn’t ruined his disposition _that much—I’m building inspiration_ , he tells himself, _I work better under pressure anyway._

When he gets back from helping a neighbor move out some ancient-looking furniture, hands raw from splinters, he collapses on his bed only to find a white cat already snuggled in the pillows. It meows at the disturbance, pushing off his face with an uninterested look. _Its paws smell like corn._

Jinho sits up, “Since when did we have a cat?” He calls out to his mother.

“Oh, that’s Tofu! The Chae’s cat, remember?” She shouts back, footsteps thumping towards his room.

Jinho turns back at the cat who’s already gone back to sleep. He vaguely remembers Mrs. Chae bragging about their _baby_ who was _smart as a three-year-_ old and could do all sorts of tricks. “Isn’t Tofu a dog?”

“In their words,” his mother appears at the doorway, “Tofu is a cat that thinks she’s a dog.” She coos, “Sweet, isn’t she?”

He nods. “Yeah, cute,” he pats her head, earning a purr. “But why is she here?”

“Oh, Mr. Chae brought her over a while ago. Said she’s starting to get lonely being alone at home,” she chuckles. “So he wants you to take her out with you later, on a walk.” Tofu seems to recognize the word, opening up her eyes again and raising her head. 

“A walk?” Jinho questions.

She shrugs, “He says it’s their nightly routine.” Tofu curls into a stretch, getting ready.

“I just need to watch her while she walks outside?” Well, at least it’d slightly more interesting than having to do some heavy lifting again. Plus, Hwitaek might like having a cat around.

His mother hums, “I’m missing something, I think.” She scrunches her lips. “Ah, no, she needs to be leashed on your walk.” She points to the collar peeking out from the cat’s white fur. She has another necklace on her, a red string with a bell that “Might run off and all. You’ll just have to stop by the Chae’s and get it before you go on your little date, okay?”

“ _Mom_.”

“What?” She laughs, enjoying the opportunity. Jinho didn’t quite date when he was in high school and god knows what he was up to in college. “I think it’d be better if you just invited him home, but it’s very nice that you’ve made friends with Hwitaekkie. That’s another step closer for me to Myungjae.”

Jinho groans, falling back to bed, not even wanting to approach that topic. “Alright, I got it. I’m going to take a nap first.” He pats Tofu’s head, “Go back to sleep, cat.”

* * *

True to the Chae’s claims, Tofu follows Jinho right out the door for their walk, looking like a cat that knows exactly where she’s going. She trots confidently in front of Jinho, smelling fallen leaves on the ground and looking back every now and then, as if asking him to hurry up. He’s smitten, smile getting larger and larger with every step, then when Tofu begins wandering farther and farther, Jinho decides he’d rather not lose the Chae’s wonder cat and picks her up, “Sorry baby, we gotta get your leash first.” Blue and green eyes blink back, understanding.

Jinho tries to slowly blink back. Hyunggu had told him that cats do it as a sign of affection _or something,_ mentioning it non-stop when they went to a cat café. To anyone passing by, it just looks like he has something in his eye. Right when Jinho thinks he’s got it, Tofu jumps from his arms and takes off running faster than he can process.

_You’ve got to be kidding me._ He peeks under the parked cars on the street— _where did she even go?_ _—_ rubbing his scratched arms, Tofu having used them as a launch pad. He alternates between shouting and whispering her name, remembering that the people in this particular street were sensitive to noise. _Mrs. Chae is going to kill me._

Jinho rounds the corner only to see Mr. Chae crouched down, happily talking to Tofu who’s engulfed in his hands, “Who’s a good girl?” _Oh, thank god._

He half-jogs and half-walks towards them, hoping it isn’t obvious he just lost their cat. “Mr. Chae, I was just on my way,” Jinho bows, “I’m sorry it’s so late.”

Mr. Chae smiles up at him. “Don’t worry, I was just on my way back from the ho–office too.” He yawns, stretching exaggeratedly. “I’m too tired these days.”

“Oh, things must be busy.” Jinho isn’t sure what kind of small-town office work justifies working until near midnight, but he doesn’t pay it any mind. _They’re probably holding Go-Stop competitions again._

“You could say that.” Mr. Chae chuckles like Jinho just cracked a joke.

Jinho just celebrates the fact that he doesn’t seem to mind Tofu having run off.

Mr. Chae hooks on her leash—it’s a bright pink—and gives the cat a heavy pat. “Tofu here can find me from miles away, but you really shouldn’t let her run off again.” _Oops._ “When you’re done, there’s a little doggy gate in our backyard, she’ll go right in.”

Jinho makes a thumbs up, “I’ll bring her back safe and sound.”

“It really is nice to have you around, Jinho,” Mr. Chae squeezes him on the shoulder. “I know having to leash a cat is silly and all, but some of the neighborhood pets have gone missing the past few months,” he says, voice going down dramatically, “I’ve been having nightmares of Tofu getting lost,” he sniffles.

Jinho nods, feeling sympathetic.

Then Mr. Chae claps his hands loud enough to startle both Jinho and the cat, “But!” _I’m going to get a heart attack one of these days._ “We can’t stop Tofu from sightseeing, can we?”

He nods, leash in hand, internalizing that he’s now responsible for one (1) life. “Of course. We’ll have a good time.” Tofu weaves in and out of their legs, meowing for attention. “Right?” She gets herself tangled in between his legs as an answer.

* * *

Jinho arrives at the convenience store having already decided to spoil Tofu rotten, and heads straight to the pet section. “What do you want, baby? Some tofu?” He looks down at her sniffing the food packets in display, half-anticipating an answer.

"He likes older men." A voice says somewhere next to him.

“What? Who?” Jinho whips his head around. There’s a mop handle peeking out from the aisle. “Shinyoung noona, please stop doing that.” He clutches at his chest. _How does she never make any noise?_

“I’m just saying, I used to do yoga with Hwitaek’s mother, so I know.” She says, matter-of-factly, mopping at Jinho’s feet. _What do I even do with that information?_ Tofu swats at the handle as it moves around. “ _And hello there, Tofu.”_

“I, well,” Jinho steps back, “I’m pretty sure we’re the same age.” _And I’m pretty sure he likes me already._

* * *

“I was wondering,” _That doesn’t sound good._ “How did you know my name?” Jinho asks, rolling empty tuna packets in his hands.

Hwitaek looks up, “Uh,” Tofu is on his lap, biting at the zipper of his jacket, “Chief Chae told me about you. Apparently, we're the only bachelors left in this town." He says it as casual as he can. Which, sans Myungjae telling him Jinho’s name first, is actually the truth. The Chae’s had invited him over for lunch, and Mrs. Chae happily told him about _Jinho, who you’d be good friends with_. Remembering how insistent she was, he figures she’s done the same to Jinho.

"Wait, really?" Jinho laughs. _She is really set on this._ “You can’t lie, can you?”

Hwitaek crosses his arms, “Should I have just said that I remember you from school?” Half of Hwitaek’s face is covered by his ridiculous neon jacket that makes him glow (literally), looking like a fisherman slash mountaineer, but Jinho is sure he’s pouting.

“I’ll pretend that you did.” Jinho nods with a smile. There was something enjoyable about how awkward they were, might just be his stomach mistaking embarrassment for butterflies.

Hwitaek taps his fingers on the table, wanting to steer the conversation to someone else. "Even _Jongmin hyung_ is getting married, she said…"

Jinho, remembering Shinyoung’s words from earlier, decides it’s about time he had some fun.

"Should we just get married then?" Jinho quips at possibly the worst possible moment, as Hwitaek is in the middle of sipping water to make himself busy.

There's a mess of _I'm sorrys_ and hands and tissues (and an annoyed cat) until things settle down and they're finally back on their seats. _How many times is this going to happen?_ The silence is back, but only for a second until Jinho bursts into laughter.

Hwitaek coughs, torn between crying and laughing. "I'm not really sure how to react when asked for my hand in marriage… over cat food." He’s glad he wore his favorite jacket today, at least it hides the red in his cheeks.

Jinho clears his throat, suddenly very much embarrassed, but with the edges of his mouth still going up. “I promise I’m usually more reserved than this. I’d say it’s the alcohol but…” he trails off. There’s only water on their table today. “You’re very easy to talk to, I suppose.” He shrugs. _Yeah, that’s a good enough reply._

“I think so too,” Hwitaek curls his fingers into Tofu’s fur. “Friends then?”

Jinho has to stop himself from saying _good friends?_ and instead says, “Yeah. We're the same age, aren't we?... But I’m not sure why I don’t remember you from school.”

“Aren’t you younger than me?” _We probably should have talked about this sooner._

“I don’t think so. People usually think I’m younger than I am,” Jinho says, “I was born in April 1992.”

_Oh._ Looking at Jinho in his go-to look of an oversized sweater, Hwitaek can agree. “I was born in August 1993.” Tofu jumps from his lap to the floor, realizing that she won’t get any more attention from the two.

"Well, _I don't think a difference of a year and a couple months makes me an older man._ " Jinho wonders out loud.

“What? Well, it would make you my hyung.” Hwitaek wonders if his mother’s been talking to people about his… preferences again.

"I… yeah,” Jinho agrees, not bothering to explain. _Well, what now?_

A lightbulb goes off in Hwitaek’s head, “Were you the one that got taken by the ghost or something?” _I can’t believe it took me this long to remember._

“Uh,” Jinho laughs, taken aback, “That’s what they say, but I really just got lost in the woods.” He shrugs. He knew it had happened, but his mind always drew a blank when trying to remember. (9-year-old Jinho, thinking he was deep in trouble, had insisted in a crying fit that he only wanted to make sure that the girl in the forest wouldn’t miss Sports Day, but he had been the only kid unaccounted for.) 

“I was supposed to be your partner that day!” Hwitaek exclaims. “You have no idea how much I cried when they wouldn’t let me play the games alone.” He says happily, as if that wasn’t actually a very traumatic day for his 8-year-old self. The other kids had picked on him, joking that he was so much of a loser that his partner chose to play with a ghost instead—Hwitaek remembers that it’s Dayoung they’re talking about and shudders, thinking of the figure in the window.

“No way!” Jinho pays for Hwitaek’s ramen of the day to make up for _ruining what would have been the start of twenty years of friendship_ (and a small part of Hwitaek celebrates the fact that Jinho is indeed an older guy). _It’s good we still got to meet each other._

* * *

It’s already Jinho and Hwitaek’s last couple nights in Hwacheon, and Jinho isn’t so sure he can part with the love of his life so soon. Tofu, that is. (Jinho decides, getting a pet is a lot like having kids, it’s a lot more fun when it isn’t yours.) His phone’s now full of her pictures, mostly just white blurs, but they’re all wonderful to Jinho’s eyes. In any case, judging by the state of his wardrobe, he’ll have plenty of fur sticking out from his clothes to remember her by. He has one pair of jeans that’s already more fun than denim.

They’re on their way to the convenience store again. Tofu happily sniffing some wildflowers sprouting from the pavement. “Would it be weird to ask him?” Jinho asks, looking up at the sky. Lyra, the constellation, was supposed to be visible soon, but stargazing felt like too big of a jump from shooting the shit in a convenience store with perpetually wet floors. Not that there’s any point trying to be poetic about whatever attraction he felt for Hwitaek (he had texted Hongseok last night—“ _idk_ _he’s kinda hot in a really silly way?_ ”), but Jinho’s always been a hopeless romantic. The stars wink at him; he sighs. _I’ll just go with what I feel in the moment._

* * *

What Jinho feels in the moment is small talk, so instead he asks, "Why trot?"

Hwitaek chews on his noodles, “Oh, it’s a boring story, really.” This time he’s wearing a silly sweater vest that Jinho would personally not be caught dead wearing, but next to Jinho’s own patchwork sweater, they look like a set. “This one’s the best so far, I think.” Hwitaek taps at his ramen cup. He exhales, “Spicy though.”

“Please,” Jinho rests his chin on his hand, “I’ve been watching you eat ramen for days. Bore me.” He pushes a carton of milk across the table.

“Whenever I got sick as a kid, my grandma would stay home to take care of me–” Hwitaek wipes his mouth and takes a gulp of milk. “–thanks. And she’d only ever play trot music. Cheered me up a lot though. Even if I couldn’t watch Voltron.” He smiles at the memory, “I think we even went to watch the National Singing Contest live at one point.”

“That’s really sweet,” Jinho says, imagining little Hwitaek dancing along to trot performances. He starts to fold up the milk box when Hwitaek plops it down, lips already red. “That spicy?”

“Yeah, it’s really hitting me now,” he exhales.

Jinho takes a swig of the soup from Hwitaek’s ramen cup. “Ugh,” he splutters, “How is this the best one?” Hwitaek takes the opportunity to wipe Jinho’s mouth for him, but does it roughly, you know, _as a bro_.

“The spiciness might be numbing my senses.” _Or I just have really good company._ He sniffles, “Anyway, I think trot is a nice medium. I get to do music and make friends in the industry… enough _ahjummas_ recognize me that I always get extras in restaurants–“ Jinho snorts. “–but I don’t get mobbed or anything.” Hwitaek shrugs, “It’s pretty good.”

"Now that you put it that way, maybe I should’ve auditioned for _Mr. Trot_ too?" Jinho leans back, thinking of himself in a shiny sequined suit with slicked-back hair. _Nope._

"You sing?” Hwitaek raises his eyebrows. “You should’ve said.”

"Sort of, might’ve been paid to sing for commercials once or twice.” Jinho fondly remembers getting recognized by a group of drunk college students and getting a free round of drinks for that. “But mostly, I taught music,” He says, trying to be nonchalant, sure that his job wouldn’t come off as interesting to someone who’s an actual musician.

“Woah, that’s cool.” As jaded Jinho is when it comes to people’s reactions over his career choices, Hwitaek looks genuinely impressed. “Which commercials were they?”

"Not telling,” Jinho crinkles his nose, “Ask me about being a teacher instead.”

Hwitaek laughs, “Okay.” He tilts his head to the side, “I can imagine you as a teacher. Students probably loved you.” Hwitaek flashbacks to his past music teachers and coaches— _I would have paid even more attention if it was Jinho hyung._

“I wish,” Jinho shakes his head. “They were just high schoolers there for the grade.” Not that he gave them away easily. “But yeah, it was fun.” Jinho smiles, pulling at his sleeves and wondering if any of his students would even remember him years down the road.

“Past tense though?”

“I quit… slash got fired,” Jinho grimaces, “Department was underfunded.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Hwitaek stares at Jinho’s fingers fiddling with the milk carton. _Who’d want to fire you?_ He straightens himself, not wanting to get caught looking.

Jinho sticks his tongue out, not noticing, "It’s nothing. I suppose I'll work as a teacher at some other school, maybe even kindergarten for a change? World’s my ocean and all that."

"Oyster,” Hwitaek corrects, “And, you’d definitely blend in at a kindergarten.” Jinho kicks him from under the table, but Hwitaek doesn’t falter, looking even pleased at the reaction. “I'd love to hear you sing though."

"I was expecting that,” Jinho groans, “My voice isn’t warmed up." He lets out a tuneless _aaaah_ to prove his point.

Hwitaek grumbles, blowing at his bangs, “I just feel like you’d have a really great voice, _hyung._ "

"Well, you wouldn’t be wrong." Jinho says, crossing his arms in a grin.

Hwitaek leans over the table, batting his eyelashes, " _Please_?" Jinho wants to reach out and push his hair back.

Jinho leans in to look at him in the eye for a second, but moves back again with a (panicked) laugh, "Are you trying one of your fan service acts on me?"

Hwitaek stays in place, peering up at Jinho and feeling bold, "Is it working?" He knows he looks good.

Jinho laughs again, barely making eye contact. _Well fuck_. "Maybe."

There’s a moment where it feels like anything could happen. Under the table, Hwitaek has stretched out his legs enough for their feet to bump together and Jinho can’t help but smile at his cheekiness to suddenly play footsie. But the figurative glass shatters when Jinho realizes that he can’t feel Tofu who’s supposed to be napping and using his foot as a pillow, “Where’s the cat?” He stands up.

Hwitaek blinks, sitting up and looking around. _The cat? Wha–_ “Oh, no.” Jinho’s holding up Tofu’s leash, leading to an empty collar. He’s not sure what to say, his head still filled with _I can’t believe a cat cockblocked me_ but Jinho’s already on the move towards the counter. Still flustered, Hwitaek picks up their trash and follows.

“–n’t see her. Can’t really see the floor from here, you know.” Shinyoung says, slumped in her seat. “How did _you_ not see her?”

Jinho takes that as her not wanting anything to do with the blame and ignores the question. “Thank you anyway.” He turns to Hwitaek, “Do you mind helping me look for her? She’s probably just off eating some flowers or something.”

“Yeah, of course,” he nods. _How hard can it be to find a cat?_ “We’ll get going, Shinyoung _noona._ ”

“I’d help but,” she shrugs, splaying her hands over the counter, “got to hold the fort.”

Jinho walks outside, stopping in the middle of the road. “Left, or right?”

“Um,” Hwitaek digs his pocket for a coin, “Heads or tails?”

_Meow._

They turn like meerkats towards the sound.

“Oh, thank you,” Jinho exhales. “Knew she wouldn’t go far. _Tofu?_ ” She meows again, coming from somewhere to their left. He smiles, walking towards her direction and going up his toes to scan the houses and trees.

Meanwhile, Hwitaek’s feet has grown roots. Like the masochist he is, his eyes had gone straight to the xx house. He had only glanced at first, but something caught his eye—a flash of white that had him looking back before the rational part of his brain could kick in. So, for the second time this week, he sees a figure in the window, standing stock still. It’s too dark to tell if it’s a person (or if it even has a face), but he can’t bring to tear his eyes away, afraid it’ll pop up at the next place he looks. “ _Hyung.”_

“Hm?” He looks back. Hwitaek looks like he’s been hit with a _body-bind_ spell. Realizing what he’s probably looking at, Jinho closes their distance to block his view, “It’s okay.”

“Can you check if it’s really there or if I’m just going crazy?” Hwitaek asks, choosing to stare at their feet, embrassed. _The hems of Jinho hyung’s jeans are cut short._

_I would really rather not,_ Jinho thinks, but he does anyway—and there it is. He half expects to recognize the figure, maybe have it trigger his repressed memories of the forest, but there’s nothing (though his stomach shrivels up at the sight). _Okay, what do I say without Hwitaek freaking out?_ He blinks, choosing to think that Dayoung somehow owes him for that day he went missing and wills the figure to go away— _please go—_ and in the next second, the window is empty— _thank you._ He turns back to Hwitaek immediately, not wanting to push his luck. “It’s gone. Everything’s alright.”

Hwitaek breathes out a sigh of relief, shakily looking up and laughing, “Now that I’ve seen her twice, our next comeback is probably gonna top Billboard or something.” He blows at his bangs, breath still a little shaky, “I’m okay now.” _Jinho hyung is right here and Shinyoung noona is right in the convenience store. Nothing’s gonna happen._ “Did you spot Tofu?”

As if on cue, Tofu’s bell jingles. She’s appeared from one of the houses, walking across its gate—away from them, and towards Dayoung’s House.

“Tofu!” Jinho calls. She stops at his voice, almost waiting. He runs towards her, Hwitaek following. Jinho taps his knees, signaling her to come down. _Cat that think she’s a dog, right?_

Tofu bends down, getting ready to jump. Jinho’s already ready to breathe out a sigh of relief, smiling, and if cats could smile back, she probably does at that moment, as she turns around and jumps into the fig tree of Dayoung’s House. Hwitaek can only look with a silent scream.

Jinho bites his lip, putting his hands on his hips, “So. She went inside.” Being so near the House was starting to make him uneasy too. _It’s because of this creepy ass fig tree casting a shadow over everything_. The one in his dreams was a lot more welcoming, and the neighboring houses at least had nightlights to give off some sense of warmth and human presence.

“Um, yeah, I saw.” Hwitaek says stiltedly, looking very much like he wants to go home. “She’s a cat, she’ll probably be fine, right?” He attempts to laugh. _Why did it have to be this house?_

Jinho grimaces, “Yeah, but Mr. Chae kept telling me about how the neighborhood pets were disappearing?” He grits his teeth, “But… it’s not like I can just jump the wall… and I really don’t want to go in there.” _Just how mad will the Chae’s be if they wake up to no Tofu tomorrow? Maybe Mr. Chae’s dreams were a premonition._

Hwitaek nods, lips stretched in a thin line, “I’m glad we agree.” _Okay, we’re both cowards._

“Shinyoung noona?” Jinho suggests.

“Yes, Shinyoung noona.”

They both march back to _Kim’s Convenience_ , their shoes crunching on fallen leaves, only for Hwitaek to faceplant into the locked door, “I’m fine, I’m fine,” he says. Everything is as they left it, but Shinyoung is out of sight. Jinho’s receipt from earlier is still fluttering under a pack of gum on the counter. There’s an unfinished bottle of water on one of the bars. _What the fuck?_

“This is a joke, right?” Jinho turns to Hwitaek, who still has his nose in his hands, “I mean, she was here a minute ago, right?”

“Right,” Hwitaek nods. He shivers—with their backs to the house, it felt like someone was poking him with needles. Shinyoung noona or not, he did not want to move away from the brightly lit store again. He knocks, “ _Noona_? Can you let us in?”

Whenever she disappeared like this, it usually meant she was buried in boxes watching some variety show in the storage room, giggling loud enough for everyone to hear, but this time, there’s only the hum of the ACs.

Jinho makes his own feeble attempt at knocking, knowing whatever prank it is that Shinyoung’s pulling, she wouldn’t let up so easily _._ He plops down to the floor. The door is cool against his back. “I’m sorry, this sucks.”

Hwitaek slides down next to him. He shrugs, “I guess we could wait for Tofu to just come out? We’ll probably hear her bell.”

“You don’t have to stay with me, you know,” Jinho says.

“Well, you look pretty scared, _hyung_. Either at Dayoung or Chief Chae, I don’t know.” He tries to joke, bumping shoulders with Jinho. _And there’s no way I’m walking home alone tonight._

“They did always say that she’s fond of me,” Jinho says, sighing. “Because of the whole fo—"

“—forest thing. Right, that makes it worse.” Hwitaek makes a face. He looks back at the house—the attic window isn’t visible from the ground anyway—hoping to see Tofu climbing back up the wall but notices something that makes his hair stand on end instead. He closes his eyes, torn between ignoring it or not. In the end, he nudges Jinho, “Has… the gate always been open?”

Jinho doesn’t reply, looking at their shadows on the pavement instead, because _of course_ , the gate would be open. He breathes out, “Don’t joke with me, Hwitaek.”

Hwitaek clutches Jinho’s arm, turning to him with no more regard for their boundaries, “I’m not.” The House’s wooden gate was cracked open an inch, leading to darkness, Hwitaek’s imagination already filling in the blanks. It had fluttered slightly with the wind. Had he looked a second later, Hwitaek might have had an easier time ignoring it.

“I’m not looking,” Jinho shakes his head, finding this the perfect time to be staring into Hwitaek’s (frantic) eyes instead.

“Should we go home?”

“Definitely.” He nods.

Neither make a move to stand up. They both look to the ground, groaning.

“We should really get Tofu, shouldn’t we?” Hwitaek feels very much like he’s eight again, “What if Dayoung is the one taking the— “

Jinho cuts him off. “I really don’t want to think about that.” He squeezes Hwitaek’s arm back, “What if… Dayoung, uh, opened the gate to help us out instead? That sounds better.”

Hwitaek goes from thinking W _hy do ghosts have to be so weird?_ to _Is my competition a ghost?_ He says nothing, terrified of both possibilities.

“Right,” Jinho brushes his pants, “We’re just scaring ourselves. We’re adults,” He heaves himself up, reaching a hand out for Hwitaek. _Never mind whatever it was that we saw in the window._

“Right,” Hwitaek stands up, “And we’ve got our phones anyway.” _Can’t get scared when I have the power of Samsung on my side._ “Tofu is probably just sniffing some flowers like you said, right?” He takes his phone out of his pocket, checking the battery and time. “… or should we just wait for sunrise instead?”

“That’s like in six hours,” Jinho says unconvinced, then, “Well…”

They look at each other again.

“We should just go.” They say in unison.

“It’s just an ugly empty house,” Hwitaek mutters as they walk.

“Right, it’s just an empty house,” Jinho says, “I don’t think you should call it ugly. Even if it is just a house.”

They step over the gateway, Hwitaek halfway between grasping at the air and clutching Jinho's shirt from behind, not wanting to seem too scared (though it might be too late for that). Jinho brandishes his phone to their right, lighting up the intertwined and twisted trunk of the fig tree. It looks even worse up close, almost angry at the harsh light.

Hwitaek’s already looking up at the attic window. It’s empty.

“ _Stop looking at it_ ,” Jinho hisses, “Are you trying to give yourself a heart attack?”

“Sorry,” he moves the flashlight down, “I just had to check.” He steps closer to the tree, "We're just here to look around your garden for Tofu, we don't want to bother you," he bows.  
  


"Why are you talking to the tree?” Jinho whispers, pulling at Hwitaek's elbow.

  
"Better safe than sorry," Hwitaek whispers back, "Isn’t she supposed to be from the woods or something? And what if Dayoung is really strict with etiquette and all that?" He turns back to the tree, "I apologize for my friend being really rude. Please don't let it reflect on your thoughts of me. And please don’t feel the need to show up anymore." He scrunches his shoulders, waving the flashlight around the yard in a quick arc, bracing himself for her to turn up— _okay, nothing.  
_

  
“ _Stop,”_ Jinho splutters at Hwitaek throwing him under the bus but bows reluctantly. _Yes, please don’t show up._ He pulls Hwitaek away. "Come on."  
  


They step away from the tree, but barely move forward. The street lights cast a orange hue on the house, but do nothing to make it seem any more welcoming.

  
"Do you see her?" Jinho turns, his eyes still making sense of the place. It’s a small yard, the tree taking up most of the space, but there are plenty of earthen pots and overgrown weeds for Tofu to hide in between.

  
"No, but all the shadows from our flashlights are creeping me out," Hwitaek frowns, sweeps his hand across, large shadows dancing with him.

  
  
"Are you suggesting we turn them off?” Jinho says, moving to the other side of the yard.

  
  
" _No_ , I'm just thinking out loud." Hwitaek says immediately. He firmly ignores how there’s an open window at a perfect height for the cat to climb into. He steps around some pots, kicking at them. There’s a movement in the shadows in front of him and he turns, expecting to see Jinho, but he’s too far away, peering into some weeds. _That was just nothing._

“I’ll buy you all the _tuna_ and _chicken_ you want, Tofu!” Jinho calls out, knowing she recognizes the words as food _._

Her bell rings.

They swivel around, looking for the sound. Once again, _clingclingcling_ , this time from further way.

Hwitaek turns to Jinho with a whimper, almost blinding with him the light, “She’s inside, isn’t she?”

Jinho nods, face grim and already trudging towards the door, “I think so too.” He flashes his light at it, “If it doesn’t open, let’s just go home.”

“Wait for me!” Hwitaek hops over the weeds, cringing at how they brush across his calves. He takes a look back at the open gate. _It’s too late to go back now._

* * *

The door is unlocked.

The doorknob yields easily to Jinho, who still has it twisted under his hand, not ready to see what’s on the other side just yet. He turns to Hwitaek who’s white as a sheet, stalling, “You good?”

“Yeah, totally,” Hwitaek says, obviously lying, but nods at Jinho to open the door. He exhales loudly. _Well, time to face my fears._

Without the streetlights helping them anymore, they can hardly make out what’s in front, their flashlights barely cutting through the dark. Hwitaek stumbles over a pile of shoes at the entrance, the sound of his fall spreading all over the house.

“Be careful,” Jinho whispers, cringing at how loud the noise seemed. He’s still facing forwards, trying to figure out the layout of the house and convincing himself that absolutely nothing will jump out, but his right arm is already stretched out behind him for Hwitaek to hold. He moves his flashlight around; a couple more steps and the hallway should be opening into the kitchen or living room. The place seems empty, whoever abandoned the house really cleaned the place up, but Tofu is nowhere in sight either, with no meows or the sound of her bell to guide them.

“Sorry,” Hwitaek pulls himself up. He looks back at the door, pushing it all the way open for an easy escape, and steps over the shoes.

The floor creaks randomly at every step, forcing Jinho in a game of Cleopatra against himself as he yelps in surprise while Hwitaek tries to merge with the wall. They peer into the room on their right—it looks like any other kitchen and dining room in town, with barebones furniture that leave nothing to their imagination—save for the empty bowls and bottles that make it look like someone just up and left in the middle of a meal.

“Tofu?” Hwitaek calls, hoping no one else will answer, “You here?”

_Silence._

Jinho doesn’t even attempt walking further in and just turns to the left, though he regrets it the moment he does.

The room is filled with dismembered mannequins—just piles of heads, limbs, and torsos. It’s absurd, and Jinho would laugh at any other occasion, but now he’s frowning like he just ate a lemon whole. “What the hell?” Jinho breathes out, “This was supposed to be the living room.” (There’s a joke in there somewhere.)

Hwitaek has his eyes squeezed shut. “I think I saw something behind them,” he squeaks out, holding onto Jinho’s arm.

“What?” Jinho can make out the shape of a door at the end of the room, just a blob of darker black somewhere behind the mannequins, but he has to strain to see it. “It’s probably just your eyes playing tricks on you.” he says, holding Hwitaek’s hand, “It’s too dark to see anything.” Anyway, Jinho isn’t willing to come closer to find out, having already decided that Tofu would not be among a bunch of creepy mannequins like this.

“What now?” Hwitaek asks, eyes back open and blinking to get himself used to the dark again, “I don’t think we’re doing a very good job of looking for Tofu.” _Would now be a bad time to realize that I might have night blindness?_

“Well,” Jinho says, “I agree.” He turns around, “ _Tofu, it’s time to go home._ ” He tries to sound authoritative, but his voice comes out more like a whine.

“ _Tofu_ ~” Hwitaek half-sings, trying to distract himself. They’ll either have to go further in one of the rooms or head upstairs to look properly, both of which, he did not want to do.

Then, so quiet that Jinho thinks he’s imagined it— _clingcling._

Hwitaek squeezes Jinho’s hand, “I think she’s upstairs.”

“Of course,” Jinho sighs, repositioning the phone in his hands—it was starting to become slick with sweat. “She’s really taking her sightseeing seriously.”

They move forward, eyes shifting left, right, and center.

* * *

Somewhere in between _a hand_ wrapping itself around Jinho’s ankle as they climb up the stairs and him letting go of Hwitaek’s hand to run, Hwitaek drops his phone. It doesn’t even register, his legs bounding after Jinho without a thought. He reaches the landing seconds after, panting, “I can’t believe you ran without me.”

Jinho’s shaking his head, still in disbelief, “So _–_ someone reached out… my ankle…” _I am never wearing low-cut shoes ever again._

“What?” Hwitaek exclaims, looking back down the abyss of the first floor, expecting a disembodied hand to float up, then realizes _his hands_ are empty, “I dropped my phone,” he wheezes. _My Galaxy Fold._

“We can get it later,” Jinho says. _If we make it out of here._ They’re at another extended hallway, with doors leading into four rooms, doors all open and leading into blurry darkness like they’re in a gameshow. There are picture frames lining the walls, but he doesn’t dare look at them too long. Hwitaek reaches for his hand again and he tangles their fingers without a thought, “We should be able to hear Tofu again from here. Just got to wait.”

Hwitaek starts humming to fill the silence, trying to get his breathing in check and focusing instead on Jinho’s thumb absentmindedly brushing over his. _This would be really romantic if I wasn’t so close to passing out._

“Hwitaek?”

“Yeah?”

“The humming is creepy.”

* * *

You know when you realize you should have given up at some earlier point, but then it feels like it’s too late so you just keep going until you hate yourself for the cycle you’ve created? Yeah, that’s Jinho and Hwitaek right now as they’re huddled in a corner, chipped paint sticking to their clothes, in an honest to goodness staring contest with a ghost? murderer?

Jinho had pulled Hwitaek into the farthest room after hearing Tofu’s bell again, their sides pressed against the wall as they shuffled across the hallway, turning away from all the other doors. But the room was empty save for an empty bed frame and armchair. That is, until they turned around completely and came face to face with a man in a hanbok and mask standing guard behind the door, towering above them.

For a second, they stood still, mouths going dry. Then the adrenaline kicked in, making them jump back to plant their backs against the opposite end of the room—Hwitaek’s voice going hoarse and Jinho getting hit by the bed in the process, making him drop his phone—that was about five minutes ago. Neither sides have moved since.

“We should just run,” Hwitaek whispers as low as he can. There’s a pounding in his temple from being in the dark for so long, different shapes dancing before his eyes.

Jinho completely incapable of further thought, says out loud, “There’s no way we’re outrunning _that.”_ His legs are about to cramp up with how tense they’ve been and Hwitaek seems determined to cut off the blood flow in his hand. His phone is halfway under the bed but closer to the Man than them. It had fallen screen down ( _ouch),_ leaving enough light for them to still make out the shadows of everything in the room, _which really isn’t helping_.

He takes a step to the side, checking the Man’s reaction—he just turns his head, ever so slightly. It must be the dark playing tricks on him, but he thinks he can see the Man’s shoulders shake. Jinho counts his blessings—at least the Man didn’t seem murderous—and shares a look with Hwitaek, they’d just have to get out of this room an inch at a time.

They make it halfway across the room, already on the same side as the door. The Man’s hidden behind it. Realizing they’re dead if he somehow decides to close the door and trap them inside, Jinho squeezes Hwitaek’s hand, hoping he understands, then sprints out, not letting go this time.

It’s pitch black in the hallway, so instead of trying their luck going down the stairs (and still remembering the feeling of cold fingers around his leg), Jinho runs towards what he hopes is one of the other rooms and not straight into the wall. Hwitaek lets himself get dragged, with half a mind to close the doors they pass through. The Man bounds towards them, seconds too late.

The room Jinho chooses feels smaller than the previous one, with a small window that lends enough light from the streets that, sitting so close (their legs had given out the moment the lock clicked), they can at least see each other’s faces. It seems to be some sort of storage room, with books piled high and some old furniture that smelled of damp. They have their backs against the door, knowing the Man is probably waiting for them outside.

“You okay?” Jinho asks, breathing harshly. _This is worse than when we did the 15k._

“Obviously not,” Hwitaek says, rubbing his eyes and having absolutely given up, “But if I’m going to die in a haunted house, I’m glad it’s with you.”

Jinho draws in a sharp breath, “I’m glad you still have the wits to joke.” It turns into a yawn, the events of the day starting to make its way to his bones, “I feel like I’ve aged ten years in here… and we haven’t even found Tofu.” The only thing he can hear right now is his thumping heartbeat, which only seems to get louder when Hwitaek bumps their knees together in response. _If the Man hacks into the door, I’m not even complaining._

He yawns too, “Knowing our luck, she’s probably somehow with Shinyoung noona enjoying some tuna.”

Jinho groans, stretching his legs, “Do we just wait till sunrise here?”

“See, that was my first suggestion,” Hwitaek says, curling into a ball, all adrenaline drained from him to moment they sat down, ready to fall asleep.

“Right,” Jinho sighs, “I should’ve just tried calling Mr. Chae, or even Hyunggu for support.”

“Hyunggu?” He turns.

“Sorry, he’s one of my _hoobaes_. Once cried in a haunted house not because he was scared, but because he felt bad for the employees waiting in the cold,” Jinho shares, chuckling at the memory. _I really should have just called him._

“Oh,” Hwitaek twists his hands.

Jinho notices, _cute_ , “He’s in a _very happy_ relationship with someone else.”

“ _Oh,_ ” Hwitaek says again, too embarrassed to look at him.

They fall into a silence, sans the haunted aspect, the room’s almost comfy. Jinho’s starting to feel more annoyed than scared, convinced he’ll end up pushing the Man down the stairs if he somehow makes another appearance. He brushes off the bits of paint on his clothes and stares at a large dresser in the room, eyes tracing the lines in the wood. _It looks familiar_ , almost comforting to look at while he waits out the night—he’s never been able to sleep outside of his own bed (or sofa). Meanwhile, Hwitaek’s already begun to nod off, eyes fluttering closed.

Then, when they let their guards down the most—a thump and a quick _clangclangclang_ echoes from the hallway. Hwitaek inhales, “God, I love Tofu, but I really don’t want to hear that sound anymore. It’s basically a sign of something bad happening.”

Jinho, on the other hand, is still staring at the piece of furniture. “I know this dresser.” _Why is it here?_

“Good for you?” Hwitaek turns to him, utterly confused.

“ _No_ , I helped Mr. Lee carry this dresser out his house,” Jinho exclaims, voice rising with him. “I remember because he almost dropped it on my foot,” he points to the dresser’s rounded leg. _Why would it be here?_

“I _–_ what?” Hwitaek stands up after him. _Jinho hyung’s lost his mind._

They hear the _clangclangclang_ again, this time it’s uncomfortably close to their door. Hwitaek’s shoulders move up to his ears. To his utter horror, Jinho’s hand goes towards the doorknob, eyes wide in recognition. _I can’t believe it._ He pulls it open. Hwitaek almost cries.

They’re greeted with darkness and Tofu, walking in to rub at their legs. Bell jingling happily. Hwitaek picks her up immediately, ready to throw her at the next sound. Or maybe at Jinho, who’s up on the balls of his feet, peering into the dark.

“Mrs. Chae?” Jinho calls out.

A flashlight, _Jinho’s phone_ , turns on right after.

“Oh dear,” Mrs. Chae steps in front of them. Her bracelets jingle as she waves, “Hello, boys. It’s quite hard to move around in the dark, isn’t it?” she says, like they’ve just run into each other in the park and not in a haunted house.

Jinho and Hwitaek stand with their mouths open in silence. _What the fuck?_ Tofu happily kneads Hwitaek’s shirt.

The Man walks into view—except it’s just Mr. Chae holding the mask in his hands, hanbok already unfastened and flashlight in hand, “See, we were wondering if you would come out or if we had to break down the door.”

“You planned this?” Hwitaek asks, voice cracking. _Now I know why my parents wouldn’t come back here with me._

Mrs. Chae taps Jinho on the arm, “Well, I told you about it, didn’t I, Jinho? No one wants to go up here for silly stars anymore, so we’re brainstorming ways to boost tourism,” Mrs. Chae says, sounding like she’s making a pitch. “When this house was finally put up for auction, we bought it right away,” she snaps her fingers, “Took us a while to clean everything up. Good thing all those mannequins were useful, at least.”

“I _–_ they were terrifying,” Jinho answers, still in disbelief. _Who would have a bunch of mannequins at home?_

As if hearing his thoughts, “The previous owner was a seamstress, they say.” Mrs. Chae supplies, matter of fact.

Hwitaek just stares with a blank expression, resigning himself to the situation.

Mr. Chae claps his hands. “Didn’t I tell you, honey? This will be a hit.” He bellows, clearly pleased with himself. “I thought of the idea when your mother mentioned Dayoung. Of course, what else can we do with Dayoung’s House, but make it into a haunted house?”

Jinho has his head in his hands, recalling how obvious everything was. _I can’t believe I fell for it._ “We could’ve hurt you, Mr. Chae.”

“Oh, no,” he shakes his head, “Not with those arms, you don’t.” He says it so plainly that Jinho can’t even attempt to counter. “But I was starting to cramp up having to stand still in that room for so long,” he laughs, looking back at the bedroom.

“I’m a bit embarrassed,” Mrs. Chae looks coy, “We weren’t even ready, Mr. Lee fell asleep, you see. He was supposed to chase you two from the garden.” She says with a proud smile. “But Shinyoungie said we should just go for it.”

“This is basically just 10% of my entire plan. You saw the rooms, right? There’s so much space! Maybe we could even put an escape room aspect to this,” Mr. Chae continues, excitedly. “Yes, yes,” he says to himself.

Mrs. Chae tuts, “I told you that’s overkill. Think how many actors we’ll have to hire? It’s too much. We still have to get the electricity fixed.”

“ _I told you_ —” Mr. Chae starts; Jinho’s never seen him talk this passionately about something.

They can only watch the rest of their conversation in astonishment, feeling like props in a game. Hwitaek pets Tofu absentmindedly, needing all the serotonin he can get. He can’t quite process what has happened just yet, his memory nothing but a blur.

Someone comes thumping up the stairs, flashlight bobbing against the wall, “Are we done?”

Jinho can recognize the voice anywhere as his mother’s, “You’re in this too? _This is traumatizing._ ” He says, exasperated.

“Yes, I was the hand in the stairs,” his mother downright cackles, walking towards them, way too happy at Jinho’s horrified reaction, “I almost missed my cue too. Didn’t know it would be that fun.” She takes Hwitaek’s phone out of her pocket, handing it over to him with a wink. He accepts it with a forced smile, feeling nauseous.

Mr. and Mrs. Chae finally finish their argument/conversation, turning back to the three of them. “ _Anyway_ , as the first customers of our haunted house, what did you think?” Mrs. Chae clasps her hands, expectant.

“You already saw firsthand how terrified we were. Why didn’t you just _tell us_ this was a haunted house?” Jinho asks, running his hand up his hair, looking crazed.

“Well, we wanted it to be _immersive_ ,” Mrs. Chae crinkles her nose. “I know you two wouldn’t have gone in otherwise. The cowards you are.”

Hwitaek thinks, _well, this shows we’re cowards for good reason._

Mr. Chae nods vigorously, “I’m really glad to know you’d go so far to take care of our baby Tofu,” he says, patting them both on the cheek. Tofu meows, earning a pat herself, “Yes, you actress, you.”

“Plus,” his mother says, grinning, “I think it helped you and Hwitaekkie get to know each other better.”

_Well,_ Hwitaek and Jinho share a look, their hearts still thumping—that part is undeniable. There’s a reason why amusement parks are popular date spots.

* * *

They get kicked out of the house, the Chae’s and Jinho’s mother insisting they leave first. When they walk past the convenience store, Shinyoung’s locking up, for real this time. She blows a kiss at them, laughing, and they just laugh back, already feeling a lot better now that they’re out of the House. Even the fig tree didn’t seem that menacing anymore.

They walk in silence, occasionally looking up at the sky. Lyra still isn’t out, but Jinho doesn’t mind. The back of their hands brush against each other as they swing their arms, but neither does anything—just listening to each other’s breath and the sound of their feet hitting the pavement.

Jinho thinks he can hear the music.

* * *

(“So who was the one in the attic?”

“What do you mean? We couldn’t even get it open.”)

**Author's Note:**

> u ever want ship content so bad u write 13.8k of word vomit for it? like who needs plot & subtlety anyway?? show don’t tell who???
> 
> a better writer would have definitely made this fic shine, but it just spiraled into such a monster that i had to get it out of my system :] i hope u guys made it till the end & enjoyed even a little bit heh i know i should’ve stopped & tightened this up at some point but… lol (this was only supposed to be 4k)
> 
>  **comments are Super Appreciated!! and u can always hit me up on twt: @behopefool**  
>  (im writing another jinhui for the ptg fic fest im sorry)


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